


two of the fairest stars

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Marvel Polyship Bingo, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Fitz leaves a game of Truth or Dare looking for something to alleviate his yearning for Daisy and Lincoln and instead finds so much more.
Relationships: Lincoln Campbell/Leo Fitz/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 22





	two of the fairest stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



Fitz presses his back against the wall and lets himself fall to the floor, eyes closed. When he feels like his heartbeat has calmed down to something resembling normalcy, he searches in his pocket for his packet of smokes and lights one up. He has been messing around with the idea of quitting for a while now and is allowing himself one only in big stressful moments. He takes one long drag and lets the cigarette hanging from his hand, watches carefully the ashes piling on the floor. He knows he has been hanging out in the balcony for long enough for everyone else to get suspicious, but he just needs some air to clear his head.

He should have known this night was going to be hard. Being around both Lincoln and Daisy has been increasingly harder for a while, being in their home while everyone was slightly tipsy and joyful was a sure-fire way to shoot himself in the foot.  _ Fuck. _

He had been attracted to Daisy since they first met; that attraction slipped to the back of his mind while their friendship grew and progressed, but never really stopped. It didn’t hurt to think she was gorgeous while still being a good friend, right? Right. And then she had met Lincoln and they had kick it off, yada yada yada. And Fitz was genuinely happy for her. She is one of the best people he has ever met: how could he wish for her anything but the absolute best? With their bumps on the road and everything, Lincoln had managed to give her that all the way into marriage. 

It had taken him some more time to realize he was also attracted to Lincoln. It had all come to him in barely visible snippets, a good laugh shared during game night, an inside joke that made Daisy roll her eyes, the spark in his eyes luring Fitz in whenever he looked at him for too long.  _ Fuck fuck. _

The most hilarious part- meaning: the worst part- is that the discovery of his feelings for Lincoln made his feelings for Daisy come back in full force. Was he always aware that she is pretty? Now he finds her disarmingly beautiful in every situation. Had he always loved her sense of humor? Now his ribs hurt of how much laughing he does every time he is with her. Part of it is the fact that Lincoln and Daisy manage to bring the best out of each other. Part of it is the fact that they glow with their love for each other, and watching them love each other is a big part of the attraction. Part of it is the truth that Fitz is a bloody moron that can not choose something healthy for himself even if his life depended on it.

He puts out the cigarette against the tiles of the floor, makes a mental note to bring back a broom to pick up the ashes, and stands up again. Being in love with them is his problem to deal with, he is not going to let that excuse allow him to be a crappy friend to them. He had enough time to pull himself together, time to face the music again

The glass door that leads inside the flat opens while he is tidying his clothes, and even though his back is turned, he knows it’s Lincoln from the breathing and the pattern of the footsteps alone- how fucked up is that?

“Hey. Is everything okay?” Lincoln sniffs around and promptly shuts the panel behind his back. “Have you been smoking?” Despite being the (medical) doctor, Lincoln manages to ask the question without any reproval in his tone.

Fitz mashes the tip of his shoe against the ashes like that could make the smell go away. “Please don’t tell Daisy.”

Lincoln moves closer and Fitz’s first instinct is to take a step back and away; when you have gotten used to the presence of another person being overwhelming, you learn to take your distance. The balcony is small, and that means he can only lean against the handrail; he hopes he managed to make it look cooler than he feels. Of course, Lincoln settles by his side, facing the panels while Fitz looks down at the flickering lights on the street. 

“I am not going to rat you out, Fitz.” He smiles and even in the dim light, Fitz can see small wrinkles forming around his eyes. It makes his heart pang, both because those wrinkles didn’t exist when they met and because he has stayed by his side long enough to see them coming to be. “I care more to know why you needed one.”

It takes Fitz a while to realize that he is massaging a sore spot in his left hand, a nervous tic he hadn’t done in quite a bit. It makes sense because smoking was one of the bad habits he picked up after his accident, and touching his bad hand is an automatic response to an anxiety surge; it might not be the source of the anxiety anymore, but it is an instant connection his brain can’t help making.

He waves his hand around, forgetting that Lincoln is not looking directly at him, trying to make it sound less important. “I don’t like those games, you know.”

He is not lying: not even when he and Daisy were twenty and dumb out of their minds did he like the party games- probably because he wasn’t cool and aloof enough to pull them off, maybe because he had his head deep enough in academics to have a proper social life. But playing Truth or Dare when they are all thirty or more, all his friends have mortgages or children or uncontrollable back pain or all three? That is just an insult. Even so, Fitz would have managed to suffer through it if their dumb friends hadn’t started asking idiotic questions like ‘who in this room featured in a wet dream of yours’ as truths or ‘kiss the person to your right’ as dares. And, again: he is not cool enough to pretend he is not carrying two bags full of feelings ready to be spilled all over the place, especially after he has had two drinks. 

Lincoln has tilted his head to the side, Fitz discovers from the corner of his eye, and is squinting at him. Fitz pretends that he hasn’t realized, keeps on driving his thumb into the palm of his left hand until he gives himself cramps.

“Here. Let me get that for you.” Lincoln is gentle when he takes Fitz’s hand in between his and starts soothing the pain away with his deft fingers. Fitz thinks about protesting, but honestly, who would he even be kidding? He tells himself that he lets Lincoln do it because he is a  _ doctor. _ The truth is that both Lincoln and Daisy had been doing this for him for years now, and refusing the attention now won’t change the fact that the space they take both in his life and in his heart would be impossible to fill if he were to try to kick them away.

It’s equal parts Lincoln’s warm touch on Fitz’s skin and his skill, but it only takes a couple of minutes before any pain and discomfort ease away. When the glass panels to the balcony open again, Lincoln is still holding his hand; Fitz tries to take it away as fast as possible, but the instant smirk on Daisy’s lips tells him that he didn’t manage to be fast enough. 

“Oh, I see, you two got to have all the fun while I was seeing out the rest of the people. How gentlemanly of you.” 

She gets by their side in two strides and before Fitz can fully realize what she is doing, she grabs their hands so she is holding Lincoln’s hand with her right and Fitz’s hand with her left. He has known Daisy longer and they have been friends for a long time, which means they have shared a ton of physical intimacy in the past, and even in the present her touching him is far more frequent than Lincoln touching him. Still, if Lincoln touching him is sparks, Daisy touching him is a low rumble of contentment.

“Did everyone leave already?” Lincoln asks while he tugs a little on Daisy’s hand to make her get closer to him. Since Daisy doesn’t let go of Fitz’s hands, that makes the three of them stand in a close triangle of warmth, fighting off the cool night air.

“Yeah, you know.” She cuddles against his side, her head fitting against his jaw and something in the inside of Fitz churns in longing. “I am not that fun of a hostess without you two there. Couldn’t ask the questions I wanted.” She says that last part almost as an afterthought, but Lincoln is staring straight at him and Fitz swallows hardly.

“We were just talking about that,” Lincoln comments; his tone is casual but his words are very deliberate. “About how Fitz doesn’t like the game.”

“Why not?” Daisy immerses herself in between Lincoln’s arms, her back to his chest, and he crosses his arms around her shoulders. Daisy, still, hasn’t let go of Fitz’s hand, and instead of taking it away himself, he takes a step even closer to them, to the point that the tips of his shoes are almost touching Daisy’s. They are both looking intensely into Fitz’s eyes and is not the nocturnal air that is making him shiver. “What are you afraid of, Fitz?”

An excuse chokes and dies in his throat, and he finds himself gasping both for air, and for a reasonable answer that doesn’t mean putting himself on the line. After a handful of excruciating seconds, the only thing that he can conjure is a lame, “You know…”, followed by a vague gesture done with the hand she is not holding.

Lincoln doesn’t even miss a beat when delivering the next lunge. “Aren’t we always truthful with each other? I tell you when Daisy drives me out of my mind, both with love and with exasperation, and I know Daisy does the same about me.”

They do, actually. Fitz takes a sharp intake of breath and can’t find it within himself to tell a lie nor to tell them the feared truth, which leaves the door open for Daisy to lay the final stab. 

“You can tell us anything, Fitz. You are safe with us.”

Okay. Okay. That is a low blow but it is also true, and Fitz takes two deep breaths to tame the furious beating of his heart down to normal again. These are his best friends, they deserve his trust and he wants to give it to them.

“I know. It’s not you that I am scared of: it’s myself.” The confession comes spilling out of his mouth, a long-kept secret that has been swimming his way upstream for months and months but has never lost hope of reaching the surface of the Truths Out In The Air.

Lincoln moves one arm way from Daisy’s shoulder to grasp Fitz’s forearm and pull him closer. His face is barely inches apart from Daisy’s, Lincoln’s hand warm and firm in his arm, and the air is thick with possibilities.

“Don’t be,” Lincoln whispers and while Fitz’s eyes are lost on Daisy’s mouth, his voice sounds like coming from another dimension of existence. “It’s just a game.”

“Yeah, just a game,” Daisy murmurs, and Fitz follows each tiny movement of her lips, draws and strokes each sound with the eyes of his mind. “So, Fitz, truth or dare?”

Fitz is so very grateful that they at least had the decency to wait till everyone else had left to put him between a rock and a hard place. He still feels like the words he wants to say are too big for his mouth and the consequences they could carry too dire to endure, and the only reply he can force himself to pronounce is, “Dare.”

Daisy licks her lips, and that is all Fitz needs to realize he is truly, honestly, fucked. Because it doesn’t matter what she is going to ask of him: there is no way he could say no to any of it. 

“If you have ever thought about it before, kiss my husband.”

Fitz almost trips over himself out of the mix of exhilaration and need to avoid Lincoln’s eyes at all cost. “That feels like a truth to me!”

Daisy, coky and belligerent as usual, fires back a quick reply. “I gave you a direction, that’s the definition of a dare!”

Fitz feels the many possible paths opening under his feet almost as physical manifestations: he could refuse the dare, he could laugh it off, he could even say ‘no, I never thought about doing that’ and pretend he is being truthful. Despite the usual anxiety lurking in the back of his mind, he is quite confident that their friendship would survive him taking any of those options almost unharmed.

That’s why he leans the last few inches and kisses Lincoln. 

Fitz meant for it to be just a peck. World-turning in terms of intentions, but timid in its physicality. Instead, Lincoln crack opens his lips and the kiss makes a turn into sensuality. Lincoln is not pressing Fitz for more, but nudging for him to take more, to give more. It drives Fitz delirious with want, and before he realizes what he is doing, he ends up fully pressed against Daisy while kissing Lincoln. Daisy’s hands grab his hips and Lincoln’s hands stroke his shoulders and they both keep him tethered down to Earth when all his heart wants to do is make him soar. 

When they break apart, he can not look at Lincoln, who is gasping for air: he is a light too bright for his eyes to focus on. If the kiss has done any wrongs between them on its wake, he can not do damage control yet. Instead, he looks down at Daisy, whose breasts are pressed against his chest, and with his mouth-to-brain connection severed by the kiss, he can only ask her, “Truth: does the beard rash feel even better against your skin? Because, damn.”

He can hear Lincoln choking like a great distance were separating them; he can only concentrate on the tiny piece of tongue peeking from between Daisy’s lips.

“Dare: give me one yourself to help me answer that.”

“You have to answer your challenge before giving someone else one,” he protests, but there is no proper heat in his voice. Lincoln’s hands settle properly around his shoulder blades and just seeing his half-smile from the corner of his eyes is sending Fitz’s heart in a spiral out of control. 

“When have I ever played by the rules?” 

He bumps his nose against hers lovingly; it’s something they have done once or twice in a decade of friendship, but the new layer of anticipation gives it a new edge.

“It’s a bloody stupid game anyway.”

This time it’s Daisy who kisses him, though he was waiting for her with his eyes already closed. Lincoln moves one of his hands to the back of his head, holding him gently, and Fitz feels bold enough to move his hands to Daisy’s ribs: the heels of his palms and his thumbs holding her front, the back of his fingers pressed against Lincoln’s chest. It is a position dizzying enough on its own and he is not even considering the way Daisy is nibbling on his lower lip like she actually wants to get that beard rash. 

Fitz pulls her apart before things get out of hand- haven’t things already get out of hand? He is overjoyed about this new development, but it’s late and his brain can not properly process things with both of them pressed so close together. His hand goes automatically to his pocket, but before he actually grabs his packet of smokes, he pulls it off and instead roams them, delighting on the view: Lincoln with his chest heaving, Daisy with the shiny eyes.

“I might need to go inside and get a refreshing on how the rules work.” His voice comes less sure that he wanted, but more than he was expecting. He just kissed his two best friends, after all. He hopes they understand what he is trying to tell them. 

Lincoln places a kiss on the top of Daisy’s head before letting her go.

“You make the popcorn, I will get the coffee started?”

It takes only a second for his insecurities to kick in again: they are both entering the apartment through the glass panel, and there is such a comfortable intimacy built between them, a  _ married  _ couple, entering  _ their  _ home, to get started on an old routine. Fitz just freezes, his brain spiraling down in a panic without pause, his fingers itching again for a nicotine fix.

“Fitz, get the butter out for me, will you?” calls Daisy from already inside the house. Lincoln is holding the panel open for him, and okay. He knows, after all, where they keep the butter, and he has made popcorn with Daisy too many times to count them. 

Okay.

They want him here, and he wants them. They can figure the rest out better with popcorn and coffee. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "Truth or Dare" square in my [Marvel Polyship Bingo Card.](https://florchis.tumblr.com/post/189650837251/currently-taking-prompts-for-this-just-remember)  
> I'm accepting prompts for it on[ my Tumblr](http://florchis.tumblr.com/ask) or here!  
> *  
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



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